


Two Steps Behind

by Missy



Category: Galavant (TV)
Genre: Coronations, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Future Fic, Humor, Singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 06:29:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3640260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coronations bring out the best and worst in Galavant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Steps Behind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HippieGeekGirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HippieGeekGirl/gifts).



> Written for Becky, for our drabble meme exchange.

“My God, your fingers are like ice cubes!” 

Isabella glowered up at Galavant and pulled her fingers from his grip. “Well if you’re going to complain about my grip,” she said, a hand at her hip, “there are other ways for you to help. Maybe you could carry my crown. Or if you don’t like that, you could take my train…” She trailed off deliberately, matching his gaze, giving him a little grin. “No – I think it’d be best if you walked after me with my scepter.”

His brow furrowed. “Darling, that’s vassal work.”

She smirked. “Yes. I know.”

Galavant promptly wrapped his hands about her slim waist and lifted her, effortlessly, placing her a step behind him on the thick-piled carpet. Isabella thought she should protest. It wasn’t seemly for him to do it when they were barely engaged, especially on her coronation day with who knows how many angry kinsmen and neighboring royals lurking in the audience. But he was watching her with his melting eyes and perfect smile. She sighed. “Why don’t we walk side-by-side?” he asked. “Good old show of equality and unity, and all that?”

Isabella pretended to consider the idea. “Maybe. If you change that doublet.”

“Must I?”

“And comb your beard…” she warbled, as an unseen harp started in.

“Now you’re just torturing me,” he said, more to the unseen orchestra than Isabella.

By then she’d burst into full song, requesting he impress her parents, and soon they were arguing back and forth. 

In perfect harmony, of course. On a day as fraught as this one, it was a strangely comforting moment.

And one that let him slip his fingers back into her grip. Icy or not, it was better to be held in Isabella’s sure grip than to be punched by her.

THE END


End file.
